Friday, August 29, 2008

They were shambling up to me as I was ordering a no-fat, half-caff latte with cocoa, cinnamon and nutmeg. By the time I finished drinking it, they had finally reached my table. (They were so pathetically slow I thought they were the wait-staff!)

I looked up at the girl I perceived to be the head zombie, (her knees were dirty,) and asked if she had heard that Paris Hilton had recently become a zombie.

"Rrrrrry??" She queried.

"Yes, it was on Entertainment Tonight. The Weekend Edition." Said I.

She blinked in disconnect for a moment before asking, "Rrrrw dzzzz Ehhhrrzz rrrrk bngg uhhhh zzzzzmmmmmby?"

I replied that Paris claimed to be enjoying the Zombie Life but positively detested the whole brain eating thing. She told zombie Mary Hart that brains were, "So not hot," and she was going to stick with sushi.

There was a bit of discussion between the zomb's, then the head girl said "Rrrnkooo ehrry rrrrrrch," and they shuffled off in the direction of Andy's on Penn Avenue. (It's a sushi bar.) Stupid trendy zombies. A vampire would have seen through my ruse immediately. Zombies are such twats.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

The First Ape is now in town. Air Force One touched down moments ago and birthed its' unholy cargo on the tarmac at Armstrong International Airport, where he was met by Governor Bobby Jindal. Also in attendance; shining examples of public service William Jefferson and Ray Nagin. After the emotionless handshakes, Curious George was met by Saints Drew Brees and Deuce McCallister and given Saints gear which he casually tossed off to an aide. Bush took specific interest in Drew Brees' birthmark which he pointed at, eyes popping, like an utterly clueless and rude twat. He then spent thirty seconds giving a supposedly prestigious award to Dr John Bull before hopping into Marine One and helicoptering off to Jackson Barracks to fill our ears with bullshit.

So if Dr John Bull is so deserving of high praise, (and from what I hear, he is,) why the casual treatment? Curious George left him standing alone like a nobody after he gave him his medal. For someone in desperate need of good press in New Orleans, Georgie Boy certainly found a way to fuck this up completely.

Congratulations go out to ABC affiliate WGNO for being the only station to cover the speech live. I missed the beginning though, as I was making a George Bush sandwich. That's fried bologna smeared with mayonnaise and no bread. Some key points of what I heard in the speech:

Curious George mentioned that tourism is finally back in New Orleans. Yes, it is, but it never left. Possibly the immediate months after the storm there was a lull, but by Mardi Gras, our tourism business was going strong. You can't take credit for something you had no part in. Next.

Georgie also pointed out that health care is back in New Orleans. Umm, no, sorry, it's not. While there are facilities open in town, area hospitals are still severely understaffed, underfunded and overworked. Charity still sits abandoned, like a giant middle finger pointed straight at the bush administration and local politicians who keep dragging their heels. Next.

Georgie applauded the fact that there is "hopeful progress reducing crime in New Orleans." Get a fucking clue. Crime is as bad as it ever was. The only difference is that now the police can watch it happen on TV instead of endangering themselves out on the street. Bush says that he's been told, "over the last six months there have been notable improvements." By who? Nagin? Riley? If so, I challenge Curious George to spend the weekend in the Upper Ninth without his personal escort. Didn't think so.

The faux president touched on how the school system has improved, specifically test scores. Gee, I guess so, since many of the underachieving kids who had low test scores have stopped attending school altogether. That's just common sense.

He spent a few minutes kissing Leah Chase's ass. I guess he wants another freebie meal on our dime. No offense intended to Leah, but we've heard it before. I notice that he didn't mention the brutal slaying of Betsy McDaniel of Betsy's Pancake House. but then, he never ate there, so i guess it was beneath his radar.

He whooped up some hometown cheers when he mentioned that the New Orleans Saints were about to begin a new season in a newly refurbished Superdome. Yay! Except that the refurbishing is now over two years old. Does he ever read a fucking newspaper? not even a sports page?

He praised the fact that many New Orleans religious institutions are reopening. Really? Seems to me that the Archdiocese just closed thirty of them. He must have been thinking of strip clubs.

He closed by telling us all how he's been "honored to work with us" during the recovery and how this being the third anniversary of Katrina, he thought he should swing down here and "tell us what's happened and where we're headed." Well, in the first place, where has he been working with us? Was he in the Lower Ninth rebuilding homes? Did he help to strengthen the levees? Was that George Bush I saw feeding the homeless under the bridge? Or did he mean it was nice funneling a supposed 128 billion dollars to our state to be divided between our politicians and their pet projects like NOAH, Care Unlimited, Central City Adult Education and Orleans Metropolitan Housing?

As for him telling us what happened and where we're headed, we know, all too well. We were here. We're still here. Not in Arizona eating cake. Not in Crawford riding horses. This is reportedly the First Ape's last stop in New Orleans and to that I say, good riddance. Don't let the screen door smack you in the ass on the way out.

Monday, August 18, 2008

There's a Curious Tribe in New Orleans. Very curious. While I try to maintain a curmudgeonly negative outlook on life, every so often I get the itch to pass on a positive story. Well, this is one of those times.

Curious Tribe is a group of young New Orleanians whose "mission is to elevate young adults by cultivating a language of creativity through art, fashion, music and culture." That's a pretty steep hill to climb, considering the state of the city these days, but like it says on the CT blog, "A dream is a weapon... Don't wake up!"

So when you get tired of re-reading my glorious rants, hustle on over to Curious Tribe. You just might find some hope for New Orleans!

Saturday, August 16, 2008

"I have said before that I don't think he can do the eight, and still believe that. Mind you, if there is any person on the planet who is capable, it is him. It's sad, but I just don't think it will happen." -Ian Thorpe

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

I'm a cat person, but I love a good dog. Hot dog, that is. Since before I can remember, I've been an absolute hound for Oscar Meyer Beef Franks, boiled, fried, barbecued, or just straight out of the package. As far as meat and meat by-products go, the Oscar Meyer Beef Frank was second only to bacon in my little world. Alas, like truth in advertising and honest politicians, those days are gone forever. Without warning, Oscar Meyer has ruined my life by changing the beef frank, and it's a change for the worse.

In June of 2008, I picked up a package of OMBF's and immediately noticed that something was wrong. The familiar light blue on the label had been replaced by a darker, more ominous shade of blue. Not only that, but the franks themselves were darker too. The usual fleshy hue was gone and I was staring at a dark and ruddy looking set of franks. I checked the rest of the packages, but they were all the same. My first thought was that they looked as if they spent the weekend at the beach. You know how a hot dog darkens if you leave it out for a while? That's what they looked like.

Fuck it, said I. It's Oscar, he wouldn't mess with a good thing. They probably just put too much dye in the mixture.

So I tossed the dogs in my basket and hit the check-out lines and headed home. I dutifully put all my purchases away like a good boy. I straightened the kitchen, rinsed a few dishes left over from breakfast and gave the countertops a quick spritz. I had done a good job and was ready for my reward... hot dogs!

I opened a pack and knew at once I had made a mistake. The smooth texture that once graced the OMBF was gone. In it's place was a rough, unfamiliar texture. This, however, was a small shock compared to the sheer displeasure I experienced when I bit into the hot dog. The old dogs were virtually unyielding to my bite. These new impostors offered resistance! As if they didn't want to be eaten! Not only that, but the smooth, whipped, almost creamy, meat texture inside was gone altogether. Now, inside my mouth, the little individual bits of meat were not even trying to work together. not only that, but there was a little hard chunk of something in there. For lack of a better word, blecch!

But if you think that's bad, the fried ones were worse! See, I usually eat five at a time. One raw while the others cook. As my brain was trying to wrap itself around the offensive taste in my mouth, my nose was sending alarm signals to it. Something was burning. Something that shouldn't have been burning. Something bad.

As many of you know, I'm a longhair. I thought perhaps an errant strand fell too close to the burner on the stove, but this was not the case. It was the hot dogs! As they popped and sizzled in the pan, the odor of burning hair was wafting up from them. And a hint of burning plastic, as well. It wasn't strong, but it was strong enough to notice. Imagine wrapping one of those little green toy army men with a few strands of hair and aiming a magnifying glass at it under the hot summer sun. It was disturbing, to say the least. There is a constant in the meat world, and that is, "Fire makes it good." With the new OMBF, fire makes it nauseating.

So I did some digging. According to DelawareOnline, Kraft Foods, OM's parent company, has changed the beef frank in order to compete with rival Sara Lee's Ball Park Franks. The new product, labeled "Premium" is touted as having no artificial flavors, colors, fillers or by-products. Unfortunately, it contains no taste, flavor or enjoyment, either. This is compounded by the fact that Mario Lopez has been signed as the celebrity spokesman for the new beef franks. A crappy fourth tier semi-celebrity for a crappy product.

Bad move Kraft. In your bid for hot dog domination, you have essentially chased me, and many others, straight to the competition. This brainless move can only be compared to that of Coca-Cola when they rolled out New Coke and consigned their original recipe to the trash bin. And we all know how well that worked out, don't we?

Some time ago, when I was enjoying some OMBF's at work, a vegetarian co-worker asked me how my snout was. "Excuse me?" Her reply, "Snout, Michael, you're eating snout. And hoof, and colon, and bone." It was one of her little anti-meat tirades and I was prepared for it. I replied that if it weren't for hot dogs, people would eat more hamburger, or steak, or bacon, and that would mean more animals slaughtered, and all those leftover parts would have to be put somewhere. As I saw it, hot dog eaters were doing their part to cut down on slaughter and keep the landfills free of nasty animal bits. To my surprise, after some thought, she agreed and I was given her blessing to eat all the hot dogs I wanted. I still plan to do so, but they most assuredly will not be made by Oscar Meyer. Looks like I'm heading to the Ball Park.

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

Paris Hilton faking it for president? Who cares. The McCain camp taking her ad seriously enough to respond to it? Boooooring! The U.S. Darth Vader Olympic Cycling team arrives in China? Old news. Cancer cured by witchcraft? We can only hope and wait. Morons all, yes, but we here at the Nation prefer to blow the horns of those few, those stupid few, who dwell in the 98th percentile of incompetence. Like Reginald Peterson, a 42 year old Jacksonville, Florida man who made urgent calls to 911 regarding his improperly made Subway sandwiches.

Yes folks, sandwiches.

Apparently, after paying around $12 for two subs, Peterson became irate with Subway employees who allegedly forgot to put sauce on his subs. After yelling at the hapless wage slaves, Peterson left the store, sans sammiches, to call 911 in order to have police force the Subway employees to make his sandwiches properly. Upon returning, he found the doors locked. The fact that the Subway now had both his money and his subs further incensed Peterson. He again went to call 911, this time complaining that police were not arriving quickly enough. Police finally arrived during Reggie's third 911 call, only to find him beyond the pale of rationality.

While attempting to sort out the Great Florida Sandwich Fraud of 2008, officers also attempted to explain the correct use of the 911 system to Peterson, to no avail. Peterson became belligerent and abusive toward the officers and was finally arrested and booked with making false 911 calls. According to an AP report, Peterson does not have a phone listing, so it's perfectly reasonable that he would be ignorant of the proper use of 911. No word as yet on the condition of the sandwiches.